Further on, in a bit of woods, the trail led them in a circle, where again the hounds lost time. Not once did they catch a glimpse of the hares and arrived at camp headquarters to find that they had been in for some time.
“That old engine sounds good to me,” said Virginia, for the water was being pumped from the drilled well and pails of clear, cold water carried down to the dining-room for supper.
Hilary and Lilian were repairing damages and washing dusty faces and hands when Eloise; who had been a hare, came to borrow Betty’s Indian blanket. “I’ll take good care of it, Betty,” she said. “How do I look in it?”—draping it around her shoulders.
“What is up?” asked Hilary.
“Our klondike gives the camp fire tonight and we are going to be Indians. Don’t miss it. Helen’s father sent boxes of the most delicious marshmallows you ever ate. Wasn’t it nice of him?”
“Don’t you want my steamer rug?” inquired Cathalina.
“I think not. If anybody needs one I’ll send her over; thank you, Cathie. May has a duck of a blanket, just a cotton one, such as they make bath robes of, and it is so gay and pretty.”
“I suppose the camp fire will be on Marshmallow Point?”
“Yes; a real ‘Injun’ camp fire, where the Indians used to have them.”
As the girls came down to the point upon the ringing of the bell after supper, a tall, stolid “Indian” met them and waved them to the lower rocks. Behind other rocks Indian head-dresses showed. Presently there appeared a group of dignified Indians, much painted, wearing feathers of a remarkable variety and draped in blankets or what made one think of that civilized garment known as the bath robe. While they posed, one of the girls from Pine Lodge read an account of the early days upon the Kennebec and Merrymeeting Bay when the point was a trading resort and place of meeting for the Indians.